


Please Don’t Hurt Him (Hurt Me Instead)

by SuperSilverSpy



Series: Dick "Whumptober" Grayson [4]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Cosmetics Torture, Damian Wayne Needs a Hug, Damian Wayne is Robin, Dick Grayson Has Issues, Dick Grayson Needs a Hug, Dick Grayson Whump, Dick Grayson is Batman, Dick Grayson is a Self Sacrificing Butt, Dicktober, Emotional Hurt, Gen, Hurt Dick Grayson, Hurt/Comfort, Prompt Fill, SilverGrayson, SuperSilverSpy, Torture, Whumptober, Whumptober 2020, beatings, fear toxin, just hurt, no comfort, really - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-15
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:00:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27030820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuperSilverSpy/pseuds/SuperSilverSpy
Summary: “Please. I’ll let you do whatever you want to me, just don’t hurt him.”OR D&d gets captured, and only one of them gets torturedGuess who
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Damian Wayne
Series: Dick "Whumptober" Grayson [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1939666
Comments: 10
Kudos: 98





	Please Don’t Hurt Him (Hurt Me Instead)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kapiushon17](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kapiushon17/gifts).



> I’m late!  
> So very sorry about that  
> This one wasn’t even that long  
> I’ll get better next time, probably  
> Now I have a beta, the most amazing teeelsie  
> Many honorable thanks  
> Anyway,
> 
> Prompt:
> 
> “I'd like to start with requesting something with Dick as batman and Dami as his Robin, them being captured (possibly by some sort of Batman-imposter who really really seems like Bruce, that would add to the angst) and tortured, and DIck sacrificing himself for Dami bc he can't see him get hurt. I'd love for their captivity to go on for days or longer, with Dick getting really super weak, but still refusing to let Dami take a beating.”

It was a trap, of course it was, and Dick had led them both straight into it.  _ He  _ was there, and though the current Batman knew it couldn’t possibly-

He would never get used to seeing that face and knowing it wasn’t Bruce, wasn’t the man who was his father, the great, and most importantly dead, man. The sight made him hesitate, like it had all the times before. It was just for a moment, but it was enough.

Blink,

Damian was down.

Blink,

the figure was gone, disappearing into the shadows.

Blink,

gas in his lungs, guns in his face, knife to his arm, Dick faded…

  
  
  
  


He woke, staying silent and listened past the killer headache pounding away at his skull. Dick kept his breathing steady as he waited for memory to kick in. He concentrated on the other four senses: chafed wrists pulled behind him, wetness and pain at his arm, coldness underneath, blood from a bitten tongue in his mouth, the coppery tang of it wafting up from the wound in his arm, darkness too complete for there to be any light nearby, and the breathing of another nearby.

Damian. His eyes flew open with a start to see the outline of said boy, lying prone a few feet away. Shifting in the darkness, he made his way over, scooting and squirming slowly across the ground, assessing damage done to the younger even as he did so.

The boy looked a little worse for wear, but relatively unharmed. Dick breathed a sigh of relief. 

Priorities aside, he looked around, taking everything in that he’d neglected the first time. They were in a room with stone walls, dank and without light. Bars divided their side of the room from the one with the only exit. Whoever had done this clearly wasn’t taking any chances. 

Their captor chose that moment to make himself known, banging open the door and striding in. 

“What do you want?” Blüd’s sole hero asked warily, “We had a deal.”

“A deal?” the man chuckled, “that was no deal, that was me being your little puppet,” he spat. “I’m done being played, it’s time to make ole’ Brucie Wayne roll in his  _ grave.” _

This was not looking good. Hush stepped forward, and Dick moved to block the younger bird from sight.

“He’s dead, I’m not even a Wayne, why can’t you just let this rest?” He knew the answer, even as he asked. There would be nothing but pain in their future.

“You may not be, but he is,” a nod towards the space behind Dick’s back.

“Don’t hurt him,” he grit.

“And why not?” returned Elliot, “it’s the perfect opportunity. Damian Wayne, “The Blood Son”. What better way to take revenge on the boy’s father, than to torture the son himself?”

A key was produced, and Dick thought quickly, “ _ I’m  _ the first son though, the one he _ chose _ , and trained, and raised. Bruce barely even knew Damian. Let us go, or I swear if you even so much as lay a hand on him, I’ll hunt you down and-”

“Hmmm… tempting.” He cut off, the barred door swinging open. Dick reacted immediately, trying to further shield his brother and receiving a kick to the stomach for his troubles. “I just wouldn't get the same satisfaction out of hurting you, you don’t even look like  _ him.” _

Gasping for breath, the desperate bird watched helplessly as Hush began to drag the younger away. “Wait, wait! Please, Damian loves me just as I love him. He grew up with assassins, he knows physical pain well, he can handle it, but this would hurt him far more _ emotionally _ . Especially if you don’t touch a hair on his head.” 

Dick felt sick, knowing he was right, but he couldn’t live with himself if he didn’t try. It would always be worse seeing someone else’s pain, than dealing with it himself. Putting Damian in that situation was hypocritical at best.  _ I’m so selfish _ , he thought.

“Please. I’ll let you do whatever you want to me, just don’t hurt him.”

He did it anyway.

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


Damian woke, took stock of his current situation, and panicked momentarily, over the fact that Batman was nowhere to be seen.

His bindings were secure, and there was no comfortable position to shift into. Nowhere to go, he had nothing to do except wait.

Sometime later, and he was still awake. The door to their little cell was flung open, a prone figure dragged inside. He would recognize that suit anywhere, even ripped and tattered, dark crimson soaking through, the bat emblem rested proudly on Grayson’s torso.

Checking him over, Robin couldn’t tell much past the stickiness of blood and the elder’s hitched breathing, but that was enough for him. He knew that face, the one on the man who had dragged Richard in. Hush wouldn’t hurt so badly when it was just the first time. No, the worst was yet to begin, and surely he would be next, Damian was even surprised he hadn’t been first.  
  
  


The next time that door opened and it wasn't for food, he was ready, but it wasn’t him who was taken, it was Batman.

His mentor, who had just regained consciousness, who had been oddly silent, and still recovering from the nasty beating suffered not two days before.

When it became clear they were going for Batman , Damian reacted instantly. Spitting curses and insults from his most creative arsenal. The reaction wouldn’t change for many days to come.

  
  
  


Grayson was unconscious most of the time, and even when he wasn’t, any words spoken were incoherent. Time and time again, the man was dragged out, and there was nothing Damian could do. No words would work, there were no actions to take. He didn’t  _ understand. _ Why wouldn’t they take him instead? 

He knew Hush wanted to hurt him, had seen it in the villain’s eyes, but yet with every crack of that door, it was never Robin going through it.

Beatings were first, but then there were discolorations, a wide array of colors, melted skin, bumpy with boils and rashes and things he could not see, showing up after sessions in which Batman  _ screamed. _ Elliot was doing experiments and Damian wanted to kill someone, preferably the absolute b****** that was hurting his brother.

  
  
  


Everything felt numb. Grayson had finally told him, told him the reason for what felt to be beyond frustration, which had made itself home is his very being.  _ Selfish, _ was all he could think, it made him want to punch a wall, but the elder just looked so sad, so guilty as he said it. 

Robin knew he could never fail to forgive his Batman, but still he seethed. Ranted and raved, berated and lectured, how stupid it was, the  _ pain _ that he was feeling, the  _ fear  _ for another that he had never felt before, that he just didn’t  _ understand. _

Through it all, Grayson stayed silent, and when it was finally over, all he did was attempt a smile. “It’s,” cough, “okay little D”, cough, “I always knew you cared,” two coughs now, and silence, “don’t worry about me,” his mouth opened, closed, “I’ll be fine.”

No words were said after that, no noises made until that wretched door creaked open again. As soon as it closed, Damian was sorry. So very sorry, and he would sit in his regret, until light next entered the cell. Grayson could die thinking he hated him. That could be the last time he would ever see the man, and instead of supporting him, he had been angry. 

  
He begged for them to take him, again and again and again, he begged for Batman’s life, knowing the man’s wounds needed to be treated. Many times, but they still came for Richard, and his brother always tried to cheer him up, to tell him it wasn’t his fault, and everything would be okay. Those were the times where the man was conscious at least, and that was why he let him do it.

“You won’t last much longer like this, let me go in your place. I can take it.”

“I would rather die than let them take you Dami.”

”As would I, Grayson.”

Even though he wanted to scream and rage, even though he hadn’t quite forgiven him yet, Damian understood on some level, and knew that Blüdhaven’s sole hero needed reassurance (he did too, to be honest). It made him feel better, to have Grayson by his side, for at least a little bit.

The man was the strongest he knew, not that he would ever tell anyone that, and Robin knew the elder could take it.  _ So could I,  _ he thought,  _ but I can’t.  _ Back came the fury that had kept him silent many hours, that burning anger in his chest. Directed at himself, for being  _ weak _ , at Grayson who was the only one to ever make him feel this way, and at their captor, the son of a b**** who was going to  _ pay _ .

  
  
  


Damian was tired, he’d hardly been fed and had no energy. The restraints were long gone, as was any hope of rescue. They’d been here so many weeks, the knife wound on Richard’s arm was nearly completely healed, though Elliot hadn’t done much with it. 

He hated feeling so useless, there had to be something he could do, it was his duty to protect Batman, to save the man. Yet he had done nothing, and hadn’t been able to bring himself to so much as move in a very long while.

This time however, he did. Grayson was sobbing, the dim light from the hallway beyond making the tears evident on his face. The salty liquid made its way silently down as his shoulders shook, and the sight brought Damian immediately to attention.

Whatever it was, it was bad. The worst so far. Not once had a single drop been seen on the elders face since they got here, but now… Robin shuffled over to his broken mentor, checking for new injuries— there were none, and somehow that one fact scared him more than anything had so far.

He’d find out later, after Dick finally chooses to speak, that Hush had taken advantage of the face he wore, relations with a certain scarecrow, and more background information on the batfamily than anyone outside of it had any right to have. It painted a very horrific picture, one which created pain that would last for a long, long time. Words speaking of failures, with disappointment and anger, Grayson’s own inner fears, insecurities and issues. Thoughts that had roots were strengthened, and new ones dug in deep, there to stay. None of them were good; just Bruce’s face, his voice and words were bad enough, but the fear toxin had made things infinitely worse.

  
  
  


Something woke him, and he startled, eyes shooting open. There was shouting and gunshots, he’d almost forgotten what they sounded like. Deafening, the noise echoed through what Damian knew to be the halls of the warehouse they’d been held in.

Adrenaline flew through his veins, and he mustered the energy to sit up, watching the door with acute anticipation.

He waited, wondering if it was just another hallucination, if he really was thas desperate. Was Richard alive? He hoped they found the man first, and that Elliot got what he deserved. A fantasy began, one of many that Damian had been thinking up. Each one starring Elliot, being hurt in the worst of ways, ones that were worse than death. Robin certainly knows many. Then the door banged open and interrupted his thoughts.

A usual blinding light, the familiar-yet-not red of a helmet, shiny with blood. Words of assurance, safety promised, spoken with voices he’d know anywhere.

Two months, ten days after their initial capture, and they were finally free.

**Author's Note:**

> I have to admit, I got lazy with the whole torture thing  
> I’ve already written so much of it  
> Thought it might be interesting to see it from someone else’s POV this time,  
> Without actually having to write it  
> Don’t worry though, you guys can request a sequel  
> And then I’ll write the whole thing from Dick’s POV as well as the aftermath  
> Remember to give me an extra whumpy prompt in the first fic of this “Dick “Whumptober” Grayson series  
> Hopefully I still did the prompt justice,  
> Let me know in a comment  
> I really don’t care what you write,  
> Just please, I love it when you do
> 
> Stay whelmed!  
> -Silver


End file.
